


Intimacies

by stele3



Series: The Soldier and the Parade [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-04
Updated: 2018-04-04
Packaged: 2019-04-18 06:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14206788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stele3/pseuds/stele3
Summary: @silentwalrus1 requested “Steve & Bucky from The Soldier and the Parade Enjoying Intimacies With Each Other, whatever that might look like. Thanks!"





	Intimacies

There’s this thing that Steve does…

Okay, well, there’s a lot of things that Steve does. Mostly it involves looking and talking. Touching is still kind of…intense for Barnes and results in panic attacks, which Barnes used to feel shitty about until Steve Told Him that he Wasn’t Allowed to feel shitty about it anymore.

Which is fucking _great_. Steve Telling Him things is like the fastest short-cut to therapy. Barnes keeps trying to tell Sam about it, but every time he does Sam claps his hands over his ears and yells, “LALALALALALALALA” really loud.

Anyways.

Steve does this thing where he’ll look at Barnes when they’re around people, maybe in a meeting or out on the town, and Barnes will just _know_ that they’re going to do something later. It’s not a look that other people notice…or, well, probably Natasha notices. Thus far she’s been real polite about it, though, so. Fine.

Barnes needs the advance warning to get ready, which usually entails a lot of quiet panicking about what Steve’s going to do, working through that panic, and… _enjoying_ the panic? A little? In a weird way? He likes getting through to the other side and knowing that he’s beaten it.

Eighty percent of their sex life—which isn’t really sex, due to aforementioned issues with touching—is Barnes wrestling with his own brain. When he _wins_ , though, it’s the greatest fucking feeling in the world.

Right now Steve has him backed against the wall of their living room. After much debate they did get their own place, to which Barnes transported all the cats who were currently in his apartment, and quickly adopted a ton of new ones. Technically, Clint is their landlord, and all the new cats are allegedly the pets of other families in the building, but they already know to come scratching at Steve and Bucky’s door or windows if they want attention. Or food. Mostly food.

All the doors and windows are shut at the moment. Steve has trouble performing to a feline audience.

He’s got both forearms propped against the wall on either side of Barnes’ head, caging Barnes in with his body. He’s not touching Barnes or saying anything; he’s just _looking_. It’s the worst/best.

“I can do this all day, pal,” he says.

“Oh fuck you,” Barnes breathes then jitters against the wall as Steve shifts his weight minutely, a scowl of warning on his face.

“Watch it.”

“Sorry,” Barnes gasps. “Sorry, just, Steve, _please_.”

Steve only tilts his head to one side and waits. He’s grown his hair but more importantly his beard, enough that it’s not even bristly anymore. As jumpy as Barnes is about physical touch, he really, _really_ likes how soft Steve’s beard feels. After they’ve messed around enough for his brain to fucking chill, his favorite thing in the world is to straddle Steve’s chest and rub his hands and face and chest and dick against Steve’s furry face.

Right now, though, he’s all wound up and cycling through different levels of adrenaline. It’s probably what normal people feel on a roller coaster that’s well-built, with excellent safety regulations and a med crew waiting to stop the ride at any moment and whisk everyone away to a day spa.

Not that Barnes would find a day spa relaxing.

The point is, his body thinks it’s under attack but his brain knows he’s safe. It’s like doing pushups until he can’t anymore or running until his legs ache, except it’s _Steve_ pushing him just a little bit further than what he thinks he can do.

Steve shifts his weight again and Barnes jolts then breaks out into giggles. Which hasn’t happened before. He claps a hand over his mouth and shoots Steve an apologetic look. “Sorry. I don’t know why I’m…”

“It’s alright,” Steve says, and he’s smiling a little, his eyes hooded. “You used to giggle all the time when we fooled around.”

Huh.

It doesn’t bother Barnes the way it used to, when Steve talks about their previous relationship. Mostly because it sounds like their previous relationship was pretty screwed up: according to Steve, they spent a lot of their teenaged years being weirdly possessive of each other but not knowing _why_ or what to do about it, and it wasn’t until the war that they got a clue handed to them both by Peggy Carter.

Barnes far prefers the here-and-now, in which there is advanced warning and clarity about how, exactly, Steve feels about him. And vice versa.

Barnes rides out his giggles, then cuts off when Steve leans in to kiss him. He carefully keeps their bodies from touching anywhere else except their lips, and even then it’s just little brushes, hardly even pressing their mouths together.

All the while he’s murmuring into the kisses, “Come on, baby. Give it up, know you can. Lemme see you.”

That sets Barnes to giggling again. He’s shivering, too: he can’t quite get a handle on the way his body responds to Steve, too many automatic hormones firing off at once. He’s amped up and turned on and he can’t get a handle on _any_ of it, he’s just strapped in along for the ride.

Steve bites his lower lip then moves back far enough to grin at Barnes. “There you go. You flying, baby boy?”

It’s the top of the roller coaster and Barnes wants to fling his arms in the air. “Sky high, Daddy.”

So then Steve shoves him down onto his knees and jerks off all over his face. It’s all kinda fuzzy to Barnes, beyond the feel of Steve standing over him, still hemming him in with his thighs while he works his fist over his own cock. The whole world is blocked out by the sight and sound and smell and taste of Steve, and for a second it feels like Barnes is the shield, singing out of Captain America’s hand into the air, spinning under sunlight.


End file.
